


My Own, My Beloved

by MirielOfGisborne



Series: Forget and Forgive [13]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Bilbo Baggins, Consort Bilbo Baggins, Domestic Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Durin's Day, Dwarf/Hobbit Sex, Fluff, M/M, Married Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Romance, Top Thorin, bagginshield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 16:01:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14697555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirielOfGisborne/pseuds/MirielOfGisborne
Summary: Thorin & Bilbo celebrate Durin's Day in their first year of marriage





	My Own, My Beloved

Thorin lurked in shadow, though the occasion would have called for him to be seen glowing in the light of the many lanterns that graced Erebor’s Banquet Hall that evening. The whole of the kingdom was celebrating the end of Durin’s Day, and the beginning of the Dwarves’ New Year. The greatest of banquets was the one in Erebor, for the first time in the century and a half that had passed since its grave loss to the dragon Smaug. As king, and as the one who had taken Erebor back for his people, Thorin should have been the centre of attention on this momentous night. And he had been, in the beginning. He had played his part dutifully, as always, and the joy he had shown to the others had been sincere. This night was just as sweetly heavy to him as it was to them, if not more so to him.

He did not have to be told that he was the centre of his people’s thoughts and expectations for the future. He knew as much. He had felt it, in his mind and in his blood, from his first days as a young prince in Erebor, to those later times in his life, when he had become the king that his father had not been. That feeling had become even stronger than usual over the course of the past year. The year itself had flown along in longer and heavier strides than the ones before it, with events more momentous and unexpected than could have fit within a night of festive recollection.

What he felt now, close to the edge of midnight, was weariness, and a serious narrowing of his vision on a single object of desire, the author of the most unexpected part of his year, and the person without whom his subdued but very real happiness that night would have been incomplete.

His gaze was set on Bilbo, who stood further to the centre of the hall, deeply involved in conversation with Fili and Kili. Surely, the matters they discussed hardly warranted the fervent gestures and passionate participation of any of the three. Their carefree demeanour betrayed as much. But all three had a particular love for parties, and the warmth of that night’s celebrations could certainly justify their enthusiasm. Bilbo looked so beautiful in the firelight that filled the room, the natural pale pink of his cheeks brightened by the Dwarvish ale and the high spirits that he was in. In a way, he was glowing in Thorin’s stead, and justly so, although nothing in his attire would have shown his standing. He was still as much a hobbit as the day Thorin had met him, but his place was here now, at Thorin’s side, in his kingdom.

As much as he wanted to, Thorin could not simply go over to Bilbo and snatch him away, no matter how beautiful he looked. Everyone knew that they were King and Consort, that they had bonded for love, but it could not be made so plainly visible as interrupting Bilbo’s conversation and then retiring abruptly to their quarters. Thorin sighed, resigning himself to the idea that he could only watch and wait.

Yet, in the next instant, his attention was caught by the rustle of a dress. He turned and met the bright gaze of his sister, Dis. She stopped at his side, smiling at him with a mixture of amusement and compassion that Thorin would have found patronising had it not come from her.

She glanced to the part of the room where Bilbo and her two sons were talking. “I’ll go rescue him for you,” said Dis, her lips curling playfully as she spoke.

Thorin felt his face grow uncomfortably hot. He placed a hand on her arm to stop her.

She looked back to him. “Don’t be embarrassed, Thorin,” she said, covering his hand with hers. “I remember you listening to my father-in-law’s tales well into many nights so that I could be with the one I loved.”

Thorin lowered his eyes to her hand, curled gently over his own, and bearing the two rings that bound her fate in gold and gems: the one she had always worn as a princess of the Durin line, and the one she had received on her wedding day. He smiled at the memory of a distant past when Dis’s marriage had brought a bit of happiness to their family, in their new home in the Blue Mountains. Almost every night ended on an epic note, with the groom’s father recounting tales of battle and adventure to a partially interested audience. It was easy for everyone to surmise that Dis and her husband were not quite in the mood for late-night stories, but it had been Thorin in particular who had taken it upon himself to keep the appearance of an eager listener, thus releasing his sister to her life of bliss.

“I do think that he had completely forgotten by that time what it was like to be newly wed. At least my sons have the excuse of never having known it,” said Dis.

Thorin finally looked up at her. “This is not the same thing.”

“It is exactly the same thing.” The look in her eyes was true and determined, and it made him believe her words. “One moment,” she said and started towards her sons.

Thorin looked on as she went away. His sister had told him in that distant past that she would be sure to return the favour when the time came. He had smiled without enthusiasm, more out of courtesy than out of a strongly held belief that he would need such favours one day. He had had no real hope of ever finding love again, and if he had ever reclaimed his status as King under the Mountain and been in a position to marry, he knew that it would not have been entirely after his own heart. Yet, Dis was right. This was the very same thing, even if it was still hard to believe.

He watched Dis stop behind Fili and Kili, and plant her arms on their shoulders firmly enough to pull them back a bit. She spoke whatever diversion she had up her sleeve with a smile on her face. The smile seemed to be meant more for Bilbo, who soon proceeded to yawn convincingly, covering his gaping mouth with his hand. He was careful not to look into Thorin’s direction immediately after Dis and her sons had taken their leave. He gazed after them for a while, waving, and then he turned a subtle glance to the corner of the room where he seemed to know that someone was waiting for him.

Bilbo started making his way slowly towards that place, looking perfectly composed. If there was any impatience on his part, Thorin could not see it, and no one else for that matter. That he was being watched was a certainty, a certainty to expect, and Bilbo seemed as aware of it as Thorin was.

They soon found each other face to face again, under the darkened arch where Thorin was waiting, still visible to the others, but only vaguely. Bilbo said nothing. He simply looked up at Thorin with a soft, almost tired look in his eyes and in his smile. He took his hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it with a tenderness that robbed Thorin of his ability to speak or to move. Then he raised his gaze to him again, keeping hold of his hand. None of this made any sense to Thorin, if he had to be honest with himself. There was no place for tenderness in his heart or in his body in that moment. There was only the mad desire to sink with every sense he had into the hobbit’s soft flesh.

Bilbo smiled and took a first step away from the still noisy Banquet Hall. Thorin followed without a word. They walked in silence to their apartments, hand in hand.  Thorin simply allowed himself to be herded, feeling as if he had been hovering above the ground more than walking. He knew that if he had taken any kind of initiative, it would have rapidly turned into something that was best kept behind the doors of their bedroom. It had been easier to control his urges when Bilbo had been a few feet away from him across the Hall, as opposed to having his warm hand entwined with his own.

Bilbo entered their bedroom first and let go of Thorin’s hand, surely meaning to make himself comfortable for the night. He did not get far, however, as Thorin grabbed him by his honeyed curls, spun him around and pushed him against the closed door. As if he had expected this to happen, Bilbo leaned back willingly into Thorin’s pull. His face and hands glued themselves to the door without protest as the hand in his hair descended to his trousers and as Thorin’s mouth all but devoured his neck. He made no gesture of taking initiative or participating in any way other than simply waiting for Thorin to unleash whatever thundering passion he clearly had brewing under his front of frozen reserve. Why didn’t he turn and put him in his place with a mind-numbing kiss? Why did he just stand there and allowed himself to be handled so roughly? In his thoughts, Thorin mused briefly that Bilbo’s attitude should have softened his impulses considerably and should have filled his heart with compassion for that soft creature who was willing to risk the integrity of his body in order to please him, but there was something much stronger than compassion screaming within him and stopping it now was no longer an option. He went ahead with everything that he wanted to do, the one little part of him that was still conscious hoping that the guards had not followed anywhere near that door.

After a few minutes that had felt much longer than that, they both collapsed to the floor, in a not very dignified state of half undress. Bilbo still had his back to Thorin, but now he rested heavily against him, his eyes open and his gaze lost somewhere without focus.

Thorin took his left hand into his own and kissed the side of his forehead. “Are you all right?”

Bilbo hummed a weak “Yes”.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to do it like this,” said Thorin.

Bilbo looked back at him finally. “Thorin, you don’t have to apologise. I am not as breakable as you still seem to think.”

“I know.”

Bilbo let out a deep sigh and placed his right hand over Thorin’s. “I take it you had a well-thought-out plan?”

“I had been watching you all evening. You kept talking to everyone, and I kept imagining how I would rather be here, alone, with you, and we would take our time and make love. But Fili and Kili would not end their chatter. And so, here we are.”

“Isn’t that what we’ve just done? Make love?”

“Is it?”

“Well, it may have been a little… rushed, but I love you and you love me.”

“That is true.”

“Besides, we can still take our time, a bit later. Can’t we?”

“We can.”

“I’m sorry, Thorin, I should have noticed. I’m very fond of Fili and Kili, but I would always prefer to be alone with you and make love, slowly or not.”

Thorin grunted. “Keep talking that way and we might be able to take our time sooner than we both think.”

Bilbo giggled. “That ego of yours!” he said, elbowing Thorin in the ribs. “Well,” he said, sitting up, “if we are to do this right, we should probably wash first. And then I’ll tell you everything I want to do with the time that we take.”

Thorin laughed and got up, taking Bilbo with him and kissing his jawline in the process. “Agreed.”

When Thorin returned from the bathroom, wearing a towel around his perfect waist, Bilbo was curled up on their bed, wrapped in a warm bathrobe. Thorin sat down near him, with a smile that only hinted at their earlier moment of madness.

“Well, we should dry your hair first,” said Bilbo looking at him and running his fingers through the damp locks falling across his back.

“It is not necessary,” said Thorin.

“You’ll wet the sheets.” Thorin looked at him with a teasing smirk. “I’d rather we wet them another way.”

Thorin conceded and waited patiently as Bilbo kneeled behind him and started drying his hair with a towel. He sometimes pulled a little harder on purpose when Thorin’s head lulled backwards.

“Aow,” complained Thorin, quietly.

“Don’t fall asleep,” scolded Bilbo.

Thorin grumbled something under his breath at that. Bilbo grabbed his long mane and snatched his head back to look at him over his forehead. Thorin looked startled and awake. “I can do this, too, you know,” teased Bilbo with a raised eyebrow.

Thorin gazed at him, strangely sweet, with his large, clear blue eyes. Strange was the effect that the other’s apparent vulnerability had on their passions. For Thorin, it was like blowing into the fire with one of the giant bellows in the Forge, but for Bilbo it was a bit like rain falling into an open hearth. He let go of Thorin’s hair and settled into his lap.

“There, that’s better,” he said, combing Thorin’s still slightly damp hair with his fingers.

Thorin put his arms around him. “So you don’t mind when it’s rushed?”

“My beautiful Thorin, I mind nothing when I’m with you. Why? Do you want to rush again?”

“No,” said Thorin, smiling and shifted back on the bed, taking Bilbo with him and laying him slowly on his back. He started unfastening the tie of his robe. “So,” he said as he kissed his neck, then retreating and looking down at Bilbo, “what do you want me to do with the time that I take?”

“Mhm, I don’t know, I’ll let you surprise me.”

Thorin grinned and kissed his mouth gently. Then his kiss multiplied and descended towards his stomach. It was always a warm, lifting sensation to drown in Thorin’s kisses and the soft caress of his hair trailing across his skin. It felt like he was the one to be worshipped. It was strange, but wonderful at the same time, something he could lose himself completely in and feel safe. As the kisses descended below his belly button, Bilbo opened his legs, but his hands went down to tangle in Thorin’s hair again. “Thorin, you should not be doing that,” he whispered.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a king.”

“And you are my consort. I am allowed to do anything I please in the privacy of our bedroom as long as it is also what you want. Are you telling me that you do not want this?”

Thorin caressed him softly with his hand and Bilbo immediately found it impossible to say no. That had not happened in a while and his body had no qualms about admitting that it enjoyed having Thorin’s tongue, wet and hot and muscular, around that particular part of it. The rush of heat was not something he could have controlled, as was the sudden jolt of his head, burrowing back into his pillow.

“I do,” said Bilbo, breathless.

He continued to knead Thorin’s hair as the hand was replaced by moist warmth coiling around him. Thorin was indeed taking his time. Bilbo allowed a smile to bloom on his lips and relaxed into the slow growing wave of pleasure rising in his body. It continued to rise until the touch that brought him bliss went away. He opened his eyes, waiting to look into Thorin’s eyes again. But, in fact, Thorin’s kisses returned to his belly and climbed back to his neck, while something else replaced them lower. Then, Thorin’s mouth went somewhere he knew would really push Bilbo over any point of return. His lips gently wrapped around the tip of Bilbo’s ear and only a few seconds of that made him set aside his gentle disposition. Bilbo gasped loudly and his hands sank deeply into the flesh of Thorin’s back.

“Would you finish this already,” said Bilbo, without opening his eyes.

“I was going to. But I see you’re enjoying this well enough,” said Thorin.

“Not as much as -” Thorin had conformed to the request before it was made. “That,” Bilbo finished his sentence, grinning.

Thorin steadied Bilbo’s head in his hands and began moving to a slow rhythm. “I love looking at your face while we do this,” he said.

“As if your ego wasn’t big enough,” quipped Bilbo, snorting slightly.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” said Thorin.

Bilbo did as told, but stuck to his sarcastic ways. “You are cruel sometimes, Thorin.”

“It is not cruelty,” smiled Thorin, now looking him closely in the eye.

“What is it then?”

“It pleases me to please you.”

“Oh, well, you’re doing a fine job of it.”

“I can do better,” smirked Thorin and pushed a little harder, causing Bilbo to produce what sounded like a loud hiccup.

“Better,” repeated Bilbo absently. Another hiccup and his eyes started to close.

“Don’t,” demanded Thorin.

“YoU really AAAre crUel,” stuttered Bilbo, looking Thorin in his burning blue eyes. He was still smirking quite satisfied with himself. He was relishing the clear sight of Bilbo’s body betraying him under the effect of what he was doing to him. He allowed him no privacy for his rising pleasure, no refuge under closed lids.

“She did that on purpose, didn’t she?” asked Bilbo, regaining a bit of control.

“Mhm?”

“Your sister. My conversation with… ” a moan escaped his lips before he could name Fili and Kili.

“Yes,” said Thorin.

“Huh, I’ll be sure to thank her in the mo-” words drowned again, this time permanently, replaced by a shower of moans.

There was no more conversation after that, nothing more than being together and finding the happiness that they had both desired deep down all of their lives.

They lay embraced and silent for a few minutes after the best of it was over. Then, Thorin spoke, his own voice sounding surprisingly tender to him, as he caressed Bilbo’s damp shoulder.

“I will never get enough of your softness,” said Thorin

“I could say something very dirty to that, but I won’t,” replied Bilbo, looking up at him with a very cheeky grin on his face.

Thorin smiled back, finding that he had no more madness in him to be roused by Bilbo’s words. “The truth is never dirty, my beloved hobbit,” he said and lay a long kiss on Bilbo’s forehead. 


End file.
